Five
by beautifulworld
Summary: She wants to know what lies beyond happiness... [DL, Lindsay POV throughout S3]


**Warning - quite angsty/dark**. It's from Lindsay's POV, but not from one particular episode - it kind of follows season 3 from ep 4 to ep 18. Not sure about this one, but the bunny wouldn't leave me alone so here it is. Lyrics are from Sarah McLachlan's _Fallen_. Don't own them, although if I did there'd be a lot more D/L and Flack and it would no longer be just the 'Mac and Stella' show.

_We all begin with good intent  
Love was raw and young  
We believed that we could change ourselves  
The past could be undone  
But we carry on our backs the burden  
Time always reveals  
The lonely light of morning  
The wound that would not heal  
It's the bitter taste of losing everything  
That I have held so dear_

When she answers the phone, and hears the caller identify himself as the Bozeman county prosecutor, her heart skips a beat.

It's a cliché because it's true, she realises, and she is unjustifiably angry at the betrayal of the truism. Her heart was supposed to stop beating the first time that Danny smiled at her, or at the feel of his hand in hers; on her wedding day, whenever that might be – she refuses to believe that it will never come – when she says "I do".

And yet the first time her heart pauses, it's because of another Daniel. She hates him for having the same name, for taking that too away from her.

It's only three hours later, as she stumbles, nauseous and shaking, to answer the phone once again, that she realises what else he has stolen. That first date, the evening when she had intended to flirt and laugh and take everything that life and Danny promised her. Because she deserved it, and she had to live life for five people and not for one. At least, that was what Lauren's mother had told her. That Lindsay lived when her daughter died so it was her duty to appreciate each moment. She tries, but it's hard living life to the fullest when the nightmares come too often and she just wants one night of peaceful, dreamless sleep. Just one night. She can manage, then, she thinks.

Her reality is fractured now, past and present forever intermingled, and she wonders if there was ever a time when it wasn't. If there was ever a time when she didn't see Kellie, or Elizabeth, or Lauren in the face of every victim. She sees Sara less often, but her face is still there in the imprint of her mind, and she abhors the photographic memory that makes her such a good CSI. She'd barely known Sara, would never have remembered her if it hadn't been for the sight of her broken and bloodied body on the floor.

She wonders if there was a time when she didn't hear the sounds of their screams in Danny's laugh. He doesn't laugh much, anymore, and she hates herself for being grateful. She wants to be the kind of woman who wants him to be happy when she can't, won't ever, reach that place herself. But she's no longer the woman she used to be, and the further she is from the Lindsay her colleagues know, the more she convinces herself that it was all an act. That this has always been here, this devastating darkness that creeps into her soul and whispers doubts into willing ears.

And then there are days when it isn't so bad. When she can smile and laugh and it isn't a façade any more. It's who she is. She's happy and at peace. She sees a weight lifted from Danny's shoulders on those days, and Stella smiles more, and Mac looks a little less tired. On those days, she can live for five people, and she can do her job with ease and see only the victim, needing her whole attention. Kellie, Lauren, Elizabeth and Sara are where they deserve to be; not in her mind, but her heart.

The nightmares come more frequently on those nights, as though to remind her of what she had almost, nearly, forgotten. No, not forgotten. She has moved beyond this, has found closure; or rather, she thinks she has. She doesn't dare believe it too strongly, doesn't let herself think that she has beaten this. But they haven't, because Daniel Katums has only just been caught, and she has to put her own peace of mind aside in order to ensure theirs.

She'll do it. She owes them that much, and she finds release in her fortitude. Because it is the right thing to do, because these are the girls that she grew up with. And then maybe she can think back to days of horseback riding lessons, and sleepovers where she never slept, without feeling nauseous. He took not only their futures; he took her past.

As she sits there in the docket, her back aching from the strain of holding herself upright under the violence of his stare – she will not cry, she will not give him that satisfaction – she wants to tell him all of this. She wants to ask him if he knows what he has done, to her, to them. To their families, to her family, to her colleagues. To the victims that she hasn't been able to help.

So much to blame him for.

She wants to ask him if he knew what he was doing when he walked into that room. And if he [i_did[/i_, she wants to ask him why. More than anything else, she needs to know why. Then she can file it away, in a neat box in the back of her mind. Case solved.

They're so much more than that, and she hates herself again and again and again. And yet how else is she supposed to deal with it? She has no rulebook on how to survive. She is simply expected to go on living, because it is something more, now. It is life, as opposed to death.

She hadn't expected his conviction to bring such relief, enveloping her whole body. She had thought that this pain would always remain, and to an extent she knows it always will. But she thinks, now, that she might find a medium between the polarization of her emotions. She thinks that she can be both happy and sad at the same time, and not feel guilty. This thrills her, and she squeezes Danny's hand a little tighter. He smiles at her, a tiny grin that instantly makes up for an entire month without his smile, and she is happy.

The idea of something as simple as a smile bringing such contentment both terrifies and excites her, and she pulls him towards her once more. She wants to know what lies beyond happiness.

And as she lies in his arms, in his bed, she wonders what is ahead of her now. She thinks of the possibilities, seemingly endless, when one man can make her this joyous.

He makes her feel as though she can live for five people. But she thinks it might be enough to live for just one, now.


End file.
